Does Your Work Really Exist?

Curating our internal evolution as artists ahead of curating our portfolios

There was a celestial shower of sorts last night and I had vowed to set up my camera and lenses to photograph it. Instead, I got sucked in by YouTube again. “This nightly ritual of late must change,” I say to myself. I am well aware of what I’m doing as I’m doing it. I dismiss it as burning off stress, knowing it’s a phase and will pass.

As the meteor spectacle danced around my home last night taunting me for missing out, I blissfully went on with my ritual. Suddenly, I heard something that made me stop and glare even more intently at the TV screen.

"If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?"

I have heard this quote many times. I understand its meaning. It led me on a mental tangent which eventually took me to a question:

If I create a work of art and no one else experiences it, does that mean it doesn’t exist? If it is never seen in other words, does it have no value or impact. Or is being in contact with that piece of work required to create value or impact? If your photos never get seen, your article doesn’t get published, or you write a song that you sing for no one, does that piece of work hold no value?

A couple of days ago I was interviewed and published in Inspired Eye Magazine. I was delighted but I also have no idea who has seen that interview or my photos. Does it matter who or how many people saw it? I would love to think that there’s more of an impact than I think but I also have different thoughts about being seen than I did a few years ago.

Let’s touch on the idea of “seeing” briefly. No two people see the same scene in exactly the same way and no two photographers shoot the same scene in the same way. There are always subjective nuances that may not materialize in obvious ways, but they are there. That subjectivity and the nature of seeing is unique to you as both a viewer and you as a photographer.

I think you can agree that how you see something is undeniably defined by all of the experiences that make up your own personal lens. If that is true, then I suggest that our personal, internal lens is also responding to our own work because of its own expression. In other words, the more photos you make, the more YOU are evolving and changing (and then adjusting your lens yet again). And THAT has nothing to do with whether your photo was seen or not. Or does it?

So, let’s now touch on the viewer again and the value of their response to your photo. Take a look at what your work over time and see what says about your audience. Go back one year, three, five… and see story unfolds. Don’t look at your photos technically. Look at them holistically and what they say. I just did that very thing today and here’s what I found.

1. The camera obeys my current state: It may seem obvious to say that my personal experience of the moment dictate my photos in terms of artistic choices. However, it’s knowing that my photographs can never be an entirely neutral or objective representation of the world. The photographer’s subjectivity must influence the photograph since we are orchestrating the entire photographic experience. That seems to be a powerful factor in the evolution of my body of work—not my audience.

2. Interaction holds the key a photograph. I can interpret the same photograph but perception and meaning-making is entirely separate from any viewers. In fact, if someone sees my photo and never finds it “meaningful”, there is always still an underlying interaction that occurs for me that begins way before the idea of sharing the photo. A silent dialogue happens inside— starting from when I feel the impulse to photograph. If I treat that dialogue with care, I see a lot benefit. It keeps me in a focused change cycle.

3. Change spurs growth: What’s powerful about the dynamic between seeing and the birthing an image or creation, is how mental, emotional, and cultural filters cooperate. The form of the artistic dance seems like conversations between myself as the creator and an audience in my own mind—both who are both active participants in a continuous, interpretive conversation. I see, I feel, I shoot, I review, I shape, I share. Or I don’t share. Sharing is not a prerequisite. One photo spurs an idea or a new direction. Or sometimes it’s just a much needed expression which could possibly really move an audience and carry more meaning that I realized.

Back to the meteor spectacle that danced around my home last night taunting me for missing out on photographing it. Therein lies a feeling that will never spur a photograph, which will never be seen, never become a participant of change, and never become a precious part of my ongoing evolution as an artist...I don’t want to keep missing those opportunities.

So, dear readers, though I tend to wax lyrical about the concept of following our internal light as an artist, I still believe it is up to us as creatives to heed that call. Let’s continue to feel, shoot, review, shape, share—or not. Let’s curate our internal evolution as artists ahead of curating our portfolios—whether we affect an audience or simply continue to self-express for years. Because what you create does exist and does have impact.

I’ll close with some photos I took that no one has seen because I never worked on adjusting the colors after I scanned them— and I’m posting these here unedited. These photos inspired me to investigate color and held their value as a learning tool!

All shot with a Pentax 67 and Portra 400 medium format film, © juliettemansour.com